


A Different Kind of Therapy

by SparkBeat



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Double Penetration, Restraints, Toys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 23:09:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4118116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkBeat/pseuds/SparkBeat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of a few posts I made on Tumblr, exploring what exactly Rung stores in all those compartments of his. They can't all be candy, right? </p><p>Extended drabbles exploring Rung with different mechs, always with toys of some sort involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Different Kind of Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of two posts I made on Tumblr. Basically an excuse to write porn.  
> [Post One](http://the-sparkbeat.tumblr.com/post/120749368508/rungs-got-all-these-compartments-right-but-what)  
> [Post Two](http://the-sparkbeat.tumblr.com/post/120757576138/some-more-walking-sex-toy-shop-rung-thoughts)

The solvent struck Rung’s plating, liquid heat trickling down his armor to match the fire building behind his panel. His glasses had fogged up and been abandoned a while ago, in favor of clear vision for the work at hand.

 

Drift sat on the bench running the length of the wall under the solvent spray in his private washrack. A lovely perk for being part of command, Rung couldn’t help but think as he trailed the fingers of one servo up the inside of Drift’s thigh in feather light touches that had the swordsmech twitching into and away from him at the same time. His sensors couldn’t decide if they wanted the teasing touch to disappear or become firmer, his processor lost by this point in a fog of pleasure.

 

His arms were bound to his sides, palms resting flat on the bench with his fingers curled tight around the edge. His legs spread obscenely wide, a spreader bar at his ankles allowing him only the ability to tilt his knees inward, but not block Rung’s access to the dripping valve his seated position put on display.

 

Leaning in, he blew across the white and red array, watching the biolights pulse and the valve clench down around the false spike already seated inside. Above him, Drift moaned, letting his helm fall back against the wall with a thunk. His spike arched up against his belly, streaked in transfluids from multiple overloads, and leaking again already.

 

Rung edged himself in between Drift’s powerful thighs, kneeling with his feet hooked over the solid length of the spreader bar. He sealed his lips around the glowing node just beneath his spike and hummed. Drift’s hips jerked, and his moan cut off sharply with the rumble of a high performance engine, a sharp rev that sent vibrations through Rung’s body and straight to his own closed array. He ignored the notifications popping up on his HUD requesting he remove the override he’d placed on the panel in favor of slipping a servo up between their bodies to tease at fat, slick valve lips, sliding between them to nudge the toy seated in his valve up to press hard against his ceiling node.

 

Drift’s frame was rattling by this point, hips pressing up into the touch and unabashed moans a constant counterpoint to the background music of the solvent pinging off their plating. Rung slipped a digit in alongside the toy, pressing at swollen nodes and stretching the valve lining further.

 

“R-Rung…”

 

“Shhhh… I’ve got you, Drift. Just focus on me.” Rung said, teasing his exterior node with little flicks of his glossa while he stretched the relaxed rim of his valve until he could slip a second finger in with the first.

  
Drift had pinged him at the start of their shared off shift on a private channel Rung kept open for a very specific purpose. He only used it when he was having flashbacks or memory purges. He never said what they were, they could have been from Rodion, from his time with the Decepticons, or from whatever had happened to him when he’d gotten his rebuild, but he never shared, and Rung didn’t ask. Drift simply requested that Rung make him forget. And Rung was more than happy to oblige.

 

Why Drift preferred the washracks to a berth was beyond him, but it did make cleanup a bit easier.

 

Scissoring his fingers, he left Drift’s exterior node to lean up and swallow around his spike, lapping at the transfluid slit and pressing down till his intake fluttered around the head. Trusting Drift’s self control enough to remove his other servo from his hip, he kept up a teasing suction to distract the mech while he rummaged through a compartment under his spark glass for a specific toy.

 

When his hips started making aborted little half movements and his mouth had gone slack on a long, unending moan, Rung slipped a third finger into the clenching valve. With his thumb on the base of the toy already inside, he pushed and spread until he got a very small gap to nudge the head of the irregularly shaped, slender toy into. Drift’s body tensed, and his helm snapped back with a force that surely dented the wall or his helm one.

 

Rung pulled back to suckle on the head of his spike again as he carefully, slowly pushed the knobbly toy in alongside the first. He didn’t have to look down to know by now how the lips of his valve bulged ever so slightly around the press of his fingers, how the rim stretched tight over a bump, only to snap down tight around the narrower sections and have to be stretched torturously slowly over the next wide bulge. He could recall very clearly how it looked to have the bases of both toys sticking out of his valve, at angles to one another from the squeeze of pressure as calipers adjusted and clamped down against the intrusions. And when he flicked on the original toy and set it to vibrating against the new object sharing it’s space, the rush of fluids that oozed out around both toys didn’t surprise him in the least.

 

He left off Drift’s spike, watching for a moment as the string of fluids connecting them together beaded and snapped, then leaned down to lap up the pinkish lubricants staining Drift’s array and his servo. Keeping optic contact with the larger bot, he sucked the fluids off his fingers one at a time with a lewd pop as he pulled them free of his mouth. Pressing his servo to the gaping seam where his thigh connected to his groin, he rubbed at the stretched rim of his valve with his thumb while he snuck his glossa in between the toys to tease out more lubricants.

 

Drift sobbed, fingers opening and closing over the edge of the bench and his arms straining against the restraints as he tried to raise his servos. To cover his mouth, or grab Rung, or his own spike, Rung couldn’t be sure. He touched Drift’s servo with his, looking up at him from between his legs, mouth back on his node. Drift’s optics were hazy and unfocused when he looked down, mouth slack and drool gathering in the corners.

 

Rung arched an eyebrow, and Drift nodded, leaning back again and offlining his optics.

 

He closed one servo around Drift’s slick spike, pumping up and down the length while he grazed his dentae over the pulsing node in his mouth. Drift shouted, back arching as his spike twitched in his servo, splattering more transfluid against his belly. A fair share of it wound up dripping down onto Rung’s face, sliding down his nose and cheeks to smear against the mess of Drift’s valve.

 

In the relaxed moment after release, Rung teased a finger into Drift’s valve again, pressing against the front wall. Stretched as it was around the pair of toys, the pleats of his lining had been pulled open further, exposing a soft, squishy bed of sensors that didn’t often get stimulated. Crooking his finger, he pressed up and pulled just enough to slip in a second finger, and proceeded to tap out a rhythm against the sensitive bundle.

 

Drift’s cry echoed off the tiled walls this time, and his optics whited out when Rung snuck a look up at him, biting down on his node carefully and rolling it between his dentae while his fingers fought against the strength of the calipers flexing and shifting around them to keep up the teasing pressure on that cluster of sensors. Lubricant ran down his arm and dripped to the floor while Drift thrashed above him, caught in the throes of a final overload.

 

When he finally went slack against the bench again, slumped to one side with his legs splaying even wider, if such a thing was possible, Rung pulled his fingers out with a squelch of fluids. He shut off the vibrator and carefully pulled it free from the still clenching valve. Once it was removed, the second toy fell free easily, the calipers stretched to the point that they couldn’t cycle down to factory settings easily. Even with both toys gone, the rim of his valve stayed open, grasping at nothing and shining in the bright overhead lights. Rung shifted down to press a kiss to the tender rim, and Drift twitched away, moaning and rolling his head down till his chin pressed to his chest plate and he could stare at Rung, on his knees, cleaning the fluids from his interface array with soft, broad strokes of his glossa.

 

Rung pulled a cleaning cloth from another compartment, this one on the outside of his thigh, and gave himself a quick, unseen scrub to remove the lubricants that had bubbled out between the seams of his own modesty panel. Wringing it out, he replaced it in the watertight partition along with both lubricant stained toys. He could sort those out later, once he was back in his own quarters. Grabbing Drift’s cleaning supplies, he cleaned what little fluids he’d missed from his array and sealed the panel over the still gaping valve. He looked up at the other mech through the cleanser dripping into his optics while he undid the cables crisscrossing between the swordsmechs arms and his waist.

 

“Feel a little better?” Drift chuckled, trying and failing to close his legs as soon as the spreader bar was removed. Rung massaged his ankle joints, where the cuffs had dug in a bit during Drift’s brief struggles.

 

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to think about anything but the ache in my valve for a while, Doc.”


End file.
